Gospel Story Finder

As a junior in high school, I was placed in an English class called Everything Is an Argument. We had to debate our feelings on certain topics, which was something I wasn’t looking forward to.
One day the teacher brought up the topic of whether or not we believed the Bible to be true or just made-up stories. It was a conversation I didn’t want to join. As the discussion went on, I was astonished at the number of people who claimed that the Bible couldn’t possibly be true, and I didn’t know how I could change their opinion. Just then, a student in the back of the class said he knew that the Bible was true. After that, a few others added their belief as well.
One student said he thought that people needed something to live for. I immediately thought of the plan of salvation, and before I knew it I found my hand raised for my turn in the discussion. I wasn’t sure what I’d say; I just knew I had to say something.
I began to question my reflex to shoot my hand into the air, but I thought that this might be the only chance these 28 people would get to hear about this marvelous plan.
My turn came and I told my class that I knew there was something we live for—a plan called the plan of salvation. The teacher asked me to explain myself, and I told him that I would have an easier time explaining if I could draw a diagram on the whiteboard.
With everyone’s eyes on me, I turned to the board and began to draw a diagram of the plan of salvation, full of circles and labels. The room was silent as the class watched. My heart was trying to run away from me because of how nervous I was that I’d say something wrong or that I wouldn’t be able to answer the questions I knew would come. As I turned toward my classmates, I had an overwhelming confirmation that the Holy Ghost would guide me to say the right things. I knew that the plan of salvation was true, and there was nothing stopping me from bearing testimony to my class of this belief!
I started with the beginning of the diagram and talked about as much as I could without confusing anyone. I was surprised to not hear anyone tell me I was wrong, and I was even glad when my teacher and a few classmates asked questions. At the end of my question-and-answer session, the bell rang for the dismissal of school, and I thankfully made a beeline for the door! A friend of mine caught up with me and told me that he respected me for standing up for what I believed in and wished that he had the courage that I showed in class. The Holy Ghost really helped me in class that day!
A few days later, my older brother was asked about the plan of salvation by a friend of his because her younger brother was in my class and had told her about it. To hear that someone had talked to his family about what I’d said was a great blessing to me. I love that I have the Holy Ghost to guide me in my life.

From Church history we read: “Certain residents of Hiram, Ohio, vented their personal feelings with mob action directed against the Prophet and Sidney Rigdon. Stimulated by whiskey and hidden behind blackened faces, a gang of more than two dozen men dragged Joseph from his bed during the night of March 24, 1832. Choking him into submission, they stripped him naked, scratched his skin with their fingernails, tore his hair, then smeared his body with tar and feathers. A vial of nitric acid forced against his teeth splashed on his face; a front tooth was broken. Meanwhile other members of the mob dragged Rigdon by the heels from his home, bumping his head on the frozen ground, which left him delirious for days. The Prophet’s friends spent the night removing the tar to help him keep a Sunday morning [preaching] appointment. He addressed a congregation that included Simonds Ryder, organizer of the mob” (James B. Allen and Glen M. Leonard, The Story of the Latter-day Saints [1976], 71).
Ryder was a convert who turned away because the Prophet Joseph had misspelled his name, apparently concluding that a prophet was one who had to be a perfect speller.

“You hide your horses in this grove of trees by the tracks. The train will be coming up the grade out of the canyon. Mike, you flag it down. The rest of you board the train. I’ll be up in front here and shoot anything that moves. All right, let’s go!”
That wasn’t Butch Cassidy talking. That was me, and that day I shot horses, people, trains, a guy carrying a canoe, and a bird watchers club by mistake. I shot them with a super-8 movie camera as part of one of the greatest, most colossal spectacles ever to hit the silver screen—at least we thought so: “The Great Train Robbery” (we titled it) produced by the Edgemont Fourth Ward Aaronic Priesthood MIA and featuring a cast of dozens (including some we hadn’t planned on).
If you’re looking for a different activity for your Aaronic Priesthood MIA, maybe a movie spectacular is the answer. A movie is a large undertaking, but it’s fun, and you may excite some previously unexcited kids. We did. Don’t worry too much about the technical aspects of movie making. Enthusiasm covers a multitude of blunders, and humility covers the rest. There is almost always a willing expert in the ward or neighborhood or down at the camera shop.
We started out like this:
“Let’s make a movie,” said the members of the bishops youth committee.
“Great idea,” said the ever-enthusiastic drama specialist. “Uh … which end of the camera do you point?”
Fortunately today’s automatic camera equipment is designed with a medium I.Q. in mind. You don’t have to be Stanley Kramer to come out with something on the film. Speaking of equipment, snoop around the ward a little. Especially after Christmas. You can probably unearth both a camera and cameraman. If worse comes to absolute worst, you can usually rent equipment from a camera store.
You will probably want your colossal extravaganza to run more than three minutes (that’s the length of a roll of film), so you’ll need a film editing machine and some adhesive splicing tabs to stick the films together—also available at the camera store. Anybody who finds film editing exciting has lived a very uneventful life. Also, the handy-dandy splicing tapes require the finger dexterity of a professional pickpocket. But it has to be done, so stick with it (pun intended). It is satisfying when you’ve finished. Film and development are the biggest costs, of course. We spent $105.00 for a 25-minute epic. Writing the script isn’t hard; just remember to put in plenty of action, plenty of people, plenty of outdoors. Look around for any unusual settings for action scenes. Is there a park with an old airplane, or an outdoor museum? Are there stores, houses, or barns with unusual exteriors? If nothing else, is there an open space where you can stage an indian raid or a medieval jousting tournament?
We decided on a train robbery because we had the elements close at hand. The Heber Creeper is an old-time steam engine that carries sightseers between Heber, Utah, and lower Provo Canyon. The owners were happy to participate in the robbery and even showed us the best spot to pull off the job.
Our ward had enough riding enthusiasts to get the outlaw band more or less mounted. We had purebred stallions, ancient hay burners, a Shetland pony, and one reluctant donkey. He was the only member of the cast who didn’t think it was a good idea. We first noticed this lack of enthusiasm when we had to drag him stiff-legged down the road behind my Volkswagen to load him on a truck. If you’ve got 53 horsepower on one end of the rope and one donkey power on the other, you’ve got a toss-up contest that could go either way. But we finally won.
We loaded him and the rest of the horses and outlaws and headed for the hills.
The train route winds through Provo Canyon, then hugs the hillside around Deer Creek reservoir, and cuts through the fields and pastures of Heber Valley. We set up near a grove of trees and waited.
“Here she comes!” shouted the lookout.
I hollered, “Lights! Action! Roll ’em!” (Whatever that means.)
Lights and roll ’em we didn’t get, but action we did. One blast of the engine whistle and every horse sponsored his own Kentucky Derby in his own direction. Only the donkey was left. He was too ornery to be scared. He just stood stiff-legged by the tracks and sang two-part harmony with the train as it thundered by.
The Creeper was a white puff of smoke in the distance by the time we rounded up the last of the horses, so we dubbed in the train scene later. Speaking of dubbing in, try as much as possible to shoot the scenes in order. Rehearse them while looking through the camera; then try to get it right the first take. It will save film costs and editing time later.
Our script called for a brawl scene climaxed by a pie in the face. For this scene we got the bishop’s permission, because he got the pie in the face. Blueberry cream. It was a beautiful scene and performed with excellent taste, the bishop said.
Close-ups and reaction-to-the-action shots help pace the action. And also try to frame your characters as large as practical in the shot unless it’s a deliberate long shot or scenery shot. Mount your camera on a tripod whenever possible. Even though your cameraman lives the Word of Wisdom, he’s got shaky hands.
You can get synchronized sound with some super-8 movie cameras, but this was more trouble and expense than we wanted. We used a silent screen format with printed titles to show the dialogue and credits. You can type these and photograph them with a close-up attachment on the movie camera. Here, especially, use the tripod, We recorded a rinky-tink piano background (put thumbtacks in the piano hammers to get the “tink”). We play the tape whenever we show the movie.
Showing the movie is, of course, the climax, particularly the premiere showing. We staged a variety show titled “Salute to the Silver Screen.” The whole ward was invited (and came), and the kids did songs, dances, and skits based on great movies of the past. (Unfortunately most of the great movies are in the past.) Then we honored the cast and showed the movie. “The Great Train Robbery” will never get an Oscar, but it was a “ward winning” movie.

Dixie and her friend Jimmy struggled up the steep bank of the ravine. In one arm she carried a large black cat with an orange spot on its nose. “I’m going to call her Desdemona,” she panted, scrambling up onto the sidewalk.

Jimmy scrambled up beside her. “That’s a strange name,” he said.

“My mother told me about a beautiful cat she once had named that.” Dixie stroked the cat as it nestled comfortably in her arm. “Maybe she’ll feel more like letting me keep her if we call her Desdemona.”

“Maybe,” Jimmy said. Then he frowned and added, “I didn’t think that they allowed pets in your condo.”

“Well, not dogs, but a few people have cats.”

“She may belong to someone,” Jimmy said, warning his friend to not become too attached to the cat. “She doesn’t look starved.”

“Bobby Feltz told me that she sleeps in an abandoned shed and eats mice and squirrels in the ravine.”

“Maybe,” Jimmy said. “Maybe not.”

“Oh, oh. They’re out on the porch.” Dixie stopped abruptly as they approached a large Victorian house. Several elderly people sat in rocking chairs on the large front porch. “I hate going past here.”

“They don’t bother me,” Jimmy said. “My grandpa’s in a rest home.”

“Oh.” Dixie didn’t know what to say to that.

They were in front of the home now, and one man had come down the front walk and stood leaning on a cane, watching them. “You there,” he said. His voice was hoarse and raspy, but commanding.

Jimmy stopped. “What do you want?” he asked.

“I want to see that cat,” the old man said, pointing at Desdemona. “Bring it up onto the porch. The ladies want to see it too.”

Jimmy turned toward the house, and Dixie followed reluctantly.

“What’s your name?” Jimmy asked as they climbed the wooden stairs.

“Colonel Stayner.” The old man turned to the women. “Ladies,” he said, “look what these fine young people have brought for you to see. Children, this is Miss Bessie.” Dixie and Jimmy nodded, but Miss Bessie only looked at her hands. Dixie thought that the old lady’s face was the saddest face that she’d ever seen. “This is Mrs. Jones,” Colonel Stayner went on, nodding toward a lady who was staring into space. She looks grumpy and cross, Dixie thought. “And this is Sarah.” Sarah smiled kindly at them. “Look at this nice cat,” the colonel said.

Miss Bessie lifted her head very slowly and looked at the cat in Dixie’s arms. She slowly raised her hands toward Desdemona.

“Let her hold the cat,” the colonel rasped.

Dixie reluctantly placed the cat in the lap of the sad old woman, and the cat promptly curled up and began to purr. Miss Bessie slowly stroked the cat with her wrinkled hand.

“What a lovely cat,” said the lady introduced only as Sarah. “What’s her name?”

“Desdemona,” Dixie answered.

“Desdemona,” Sarah repeated. “That’s a beautiful name, but what made you think of it?”

“My mother had a cat named Desdemona, so I named her that.”

Sarah smiled. “What a thoughtful girl you are,” she said.

“I want to hold the cat!”

Dixie was startled by Mrs. Jones’s loud voice.

“After Miss Bessie,” the colonel said kindly.

“After Bessie, after Bessie!” Mrs. Jones shrilled. “She gets everything first.”

A moment later the colonel picked the cat up off Miss Bessie’s lap and put it on Mrs. Jones’s lap. Desdemona settled comfortably again.

“She’s a real people cat,” the colonel said.

Dixie nodded. Desdemona seemed to love all the attention given her by the old people.

Finally the colonel picked Desdemona up quickly from Mrs. Jones’s lap. She grabbed at the cat but missed, and the colonel put her back in Dixie’s arms.

“Please may I pet her a minute before you go?” Sarah asked. When Dixie stepped closer to the old lady, she stroked the gleaming black fur with her tiny hand. “Desdemona,” she said slowly. “You can call her Desi for short.”

“Yeah,” Dixie said. It really wasn’t a bad idea.

“We have to go now—it’s dinnertime,” Jimmy said.

“You young people come again,” the colonel commanded.

“And bring Desi,” Sarah said.

The children clomped down the steps. They didn’t say anything until they were well past the old house.

“Were they really so bad?” Jimmy finally asked.

“Well, Sarah and the colonel seemed pretty normal, but Mrs. Jones kind of gave me the creeps.”

When Dixie reached home, her mother asked, “Where did you get that cat?”

“In the ravine. She doesn’t belong to anyone—I checked. Her name is Desdemona. Isn’t she beautiful?” Dixie set Desdemona down on the floor, and the cat walked calmly around, her tail high and regal. She rubbed against Mother’s legs.

Mother smiled. “My Desdemona was pussy-willow gray.”

“May I keep her, Mom—please?”

“Even if she doesn’t belong to anyone else—she’ll still need shots and things, and that all costs money.”

“I could pay at least part of it out of my own money,” Dixie pleaded.

“Well, Dixie, I guess you can keep the cat if no owner shows up, but she’ll have to have a box and be confined in the apartment all day while I’m at work and you’re at school. She may not like that.”

In school the next day, Dixie kept thinking about Desi’s being alone in the apartment all day. “A people cat,” the colonel had said, and it was true. Desi liked everybody. And she liked lots of attention.

When Dixie unlocked the door to her apartment that afternoon, Desi streaked past her and down the steps, raced across the lawn and up the trunk of a sycamore tree, and sat on a branch, swishing her tail wildly back and forth.

“Come on, Desi,” Dixie called. “Come here.”

Finally the cat ran down the tree trunk, across the lawn, up the steps, and into the apartment. Dixie followed and gathered Desdemona into her arms. “Was it awful being in here alone all day? It was nice to have you to come home to, but you must have been lonely.”

“A people cat.” The colonel’s voice echoed in Dixie’s mind, and she remembered Miss Bessie’s scrawny hands raised toward the cat. “What a thoughtful girl you are,” Sarah had said. And Mrs. Jones: “I want the cat!”

Dixie hadn’t realized that old people loved animals too. Still holding Desi, Dixie headed for the rest home. The colonel and Sarah waved as she approached.

“It’s the girl with the cat,” Sarah said to Miss Bessie, who raised her head slightly.

Dixie climbed the steps and put Desi into Mrs. Jones’s lap. Mrs. Jones still looked off across the lawn, but her hand came down gently on Desi’s warm back. Desi purred loudly.

“You came back,” the colonel stated. “Mrs. Jones will keep the cat forever if you don’t take it from her. She’s selfish.”

Mrs. Jones stopped stroking the cat and turned her face slowly toward Dixie. “Bessie’s turn,” she said, putting the cat in Miss Bessie’s lap, where Desie again purred contentedly.

Almost before she thought, Dixie asked, “Could you keep her here?”

Miss Bessie stopped petting the cat and raised her head, her face brightening a little.

“She’s your cat,” the colonel said.

“I just found her. And I have to leave her alone all day. She’d be happier here.”

The colonel limped toward the door and called, “Mrs. Samson!”

A large woman in a white uniform came quickly and stood in the doorway.

“This fine young lady wants to give us this beautiful cat named Desdemona,” he said.

Mrs. Samson regarded Desdemona curled up in Miss Bessie’s lap. “We had a cat here once several years ago. This one looks like a civilized sort. Why not?”

Sarah smiled her sweet smile. “Thank you, Mrs. Samson,” she said. Then she turned to Dixie. “You are the nicest girl I’ve met in some time. Come by often and see Desi—and us.”

“I will,” Dixie said.

Walking home, she kept picturing the happiness on the old people’s faces when Mrs. Samson had said that the cat could stay. Miss Bessie had even smiled slightly. Tomorrow, Dixie thought, maybe Jimmy will go with me to visit them all.

Years ago, while I served as a young intern in a large medical center, I attended a Christmas party. The host was the chief of surgery. I had made a major commitment to work for and be loyal to him and his world-famous institution, which had produced many of the great surgeons, scholars, and researchers of our generation. At the party, the chief’s head resident offered alcoholic beverages to Sister Nelson and me. Of course, we politely declined.

Minutes later he returned with a more persuasive pitch: “Take a drink,” he said, “or the chief will be offended.” Again we declined. Our refusal infuriated the head resident. Red-faced and indignant, he said, “Nelson, you take this drink or I’ll make life around here mighty miserable for you!”

I simply replied, “You do what you must, doctor, but I will do what I must.”

I fulfilled my promise, and he fulfilled his.

He saw to it that I had no vacation that year. His responsibility to prepare the schedule of assignments and on-call duty bore the stamp of his vitriolic vengeance against me. But now, as I reflect on this matter some forty years later, I would not trade places with him today, or ever.

Emily poured the last of the lemonade into her cup and went outside. It was a hot day! Emily was glad she had some cold lemonade. Then she saw Grandpa pushing the lawn mower. He looked hot and tired. Emily really wanted the whole cup of lemonade. But she knew Grandpa would be thirsty. Emily went back inside. She got another cup and poured in half of her lemonade. Then she took it outside to Grandpa. He stopped the lawn mower. They drank their lemonade. Grandpa smiled and said, “Thank you for sharing your lemonade!”

In the four short years of Bimbo’s life, he had many experiences. One winter my brother had scarlet fever. In those days medicines were not as effective as they are now in controlling communicable diseases, so no one was allowed to leave the home during such illnesses. My father went to live with his parents for three weeks so he could continue his work. The rest of us, including Bimbo, were not supposed to leave the house.
A quarantine sign was placed in a window and no one came to visit but the doctor. Whenever Mother opened the door to let the doctor in, Bimbo would dart out. Then Mother or I had to chase him up the street and bring him back to his “prison” so he wouldn’t carry the disease to anyone. I don’t know who disliked the quarantine period most—me, my mother, or Bimbo.

A young man once came to Socrates and said, “Mr. Socrates, I have come sixteen hundred miles to talk to you about wisdom and learning.” He said, “You are a man of wisdom and learning and I would like to be a man of wisdom and learning. Would you teach me how to be a man of wisdom and learning?”

Socrates said, “Come, follow me.” And he led the way down to the seashore.

Then they waded out into the water up to their waists. Then Socrates seized his friend and held his head under the water. His friend struggled and kicked and bucked and tried to get away but Socrates held him down. Now if you hold somebody’s head under the water long enough he will eventually become fairly peaceable, and when this man had quit kicking, Socrates carried him out on the bank and laid him out to dry, and he went back to the marketplace.

After this man had thawed out a little bit he came back to Socrates to find the reason for this rather unusual behavior, and Socrates said to him, “When your head was under the water, what was the one thing you wanted more than anything else?”

And he said, “More than anything else I wanted air.”

Then Socrates said, “When you want wisdom and learning like you wanted air, you won’t need to ask anybody to give it to you.”

This story happened in the USA.
Emily stood in the water with Dad and smiled. She had been waiting for this day for weeks! Her heart was thumping because she had never gone under the water before. But she was so excited to get baptized like Jesus Christ did.
She closed her eyes and listened to Dad say the baptismal prayer. Then she plugged her nose, closed her eyes, and bent her knees as Dad dipped her into the water.
Dad quickly pulled her back up, and the water poured off her. Emily had to wipe it out of her eyes, but she was smiling. She felt different now. A new, happy feeling filled her. She wanted to keep feeling it always!
Dad gave her a big hug. I know how to keep this good feeling, Emily thought. All I have to do is choose the right and be like Jesus Christ! She felt sure she could do it.
When they got home, Emily raced from the car to the front door. So did her four-year-old brother, Jonah. Just as Emily reached the door and started to open it, Jonah grabbed her skirt and yanked it back—hard.
“Don’t!” Emily yelled. She pulled her skirt out of his hands. Then she blocked his way so he couldn’t get inside first. She felt so mad!
Suddenly she froze. A terrible feeling filled her up. She stepped out of the way and let Jonah run inside.
“Sorry!” she called after him. She had just made a wrong choice. The Savior wouldn’t have yelled at Jonah. How could she have messed up already? Her new happy feeling was gone.
I’ve ruined it, she thought. I couldn’t even choose the right for one day!
The next day was Sunday. As Emily got ready for church, she thought about how she had yelled at Jonah. She still felt awful.
During sacrament meeting, the bishop asked Emily to come up to the front. She was getting confirmed. That meant she would get the gift of the Holy Ghost. She sat down in a chair. Dad gently put his hands on her head.
Emily closed her eyes as Dad began. She heard him say the words, “Receive the Holy Ghost.”
Emily kept listening.
“Emily, always remember that because of Jesus Christ, you can repent when you make a wrong choice,” Dad said. “Every time you take the sacrament, you can think of the covenant you made when you were baptized. You can promise again to follow Him.”
As Dad finished the blessing, Emily felt happy and peaceful. She knew the Holy Ghost was telling her everything would be all right. It was OK that she wasn’t perfect. Because of Jesus Christ and His Atonement, she could repent and be forgiven! She was sorry she yelled at Jonah, and Heavenly Father knew she would keep trying.
Emily grinned as she and Dad walked back to their seats. The sacrament was next, and Emily was looking forward to it.

Prayer has been and is the ever-present anchor for strength and a source of direction in our family activities. I remember kneeling at the bedside of our young children, helping them with prayers in their younger years, and later seeing the older brothers and sisters helping the younger ones. We had family prayer night and morning, with children given the opportunity to lead, and had special prayers to meet particular problems. Mention was made in family prayer, for instance, of children with assignments such as a 2 1/2-minute talk in Sunday School or a new teaching assignment in the MIA. We asked for help when one of the children faced a difficult examination in high school. Special mention was made of members of the family away at girls’ camp, Scout camp, school, or working. This special mention of particular concerns in our family prayers gave confidence, assurance, and strength to members of the family facing difficult problems and assignments.

On Tuesday, Susan suggested they pick flowers from their garden, make bouquets, and take them to the retired people’s center. That afternoon, while Susan and Roger cut flowers with Mom’s permission, the other three children found old jars that they cleaned and covered with foil or pretty wrapping paper.
“Off we go,” they cried as they headed into town, pulling a wagon loaded with colorful blossoms. At the retirement center, they split up and each delivered three small vases of flowers.

It was the same with the Haraga family, who came to the Hamilton Temple in April 2024. The parents received their endowment and were sealed to each other, and their daughter, Barbara, was sealed to them. Brother Haraga was also sealed to his deceased parents.

Brother Haraga was the first in his family to embrace the restored gospel when he was baptized in 2011. His wife and daughters joined him in 2015.

The Haraga family’s greatest desire was to attend the temple together to become an eternal family. Their dream became a reality in April 2024 when they entered the Hamilton Temple to be endowed and sealed. Faith in Jesus Christ led them to receive ordinances and make covenants in the house of the Lord.

Barbara Hong, who was in the first early-morning seminary class, says, “My nonmember parents, like many others, weren’t very happy about the classes. They felt that early religion classes every day would detract from schoolwork. But we proved that the classes helped our learning. Our commitment increased. Teachers and fellow students were impressed. My parents soon began to encourage me to attend.”

Let me share an experience of a Relief Society sister who made a difference and exemplified the objectives of our organization.
This young adult sister, who was teaching English language classes in Japan, found herself on the playground surrounded by a group of Japanese children who were full of questions. “Do you like Japanese or American kids better?” “Do you eat sushi?” “How do you say basketball in English?” Amid the commotion, the young Relief Society sister felt someone tapping her arm. She turned around to see a little girl with pigtails and glasses. “I bent down to look her in the face and waited for what was sure to be some trivial question,” she says. “It was as if all the commotion stopped when she asked in a soft, almost timid voice, ‘Do you know Jesus?’ I was stunned by such a poignant and important question. I smiled and felt amazing love as I told her, ‘Yes, yes, I know Jesus.’”
Dear young adult sisters, you know Jesus. And with that knowledge you bring a clarity, a freshness, and an energy that our sisterhood needs. We value your membership in Relief Society, and you bless us with your faith in the Savior and in His work. An older sister described you in these words: “We are spiritually nourished as we observe you younger, vibrant women who not only have so much vigor and vitality but also who are spiritually mature, with tremendous inner strength of character and testimony—just beautiful to behold. We count our blessings because you are the ones who reassure us and give such faith and ‘a perfect brightness of hope’ for the future” (see 2 Ne. 31:20).

In junior high, I didn’t think life was fair. I was short—not just a little below average, but officially vertically challenged. One day my entire grade lined up by height for a picture. I was at the end of the line—the short end.
Despite my height, I loved basketball and was determined to make the team. As a gym full of boys began running drills to win their places on the squad, I hoped my many hours of practice would pay off. The coaches stood in the middle of the gym, observing us and taking notes on their clipboards. At my size, I just prayed they would notice me.
After warm-ups, the head coach blew his whistle and explained our first shooting drill. He handed me a ball. I was one of the first to dribble from half court and pull up inside the three-point line for a jump shot. I knew everyone was watching; my shaking hands reminded me with every dribble. I stopped at the top of the key, jumped, and let go of the ball. I hoped that it would at least hit the rim. The ball rolled around the iron and dropped through the net.
Sooner than I wanted, it was my turn again. Again my shot found its way through the hoop. Through the next rotation, my luck continued. The returning center of the team noticed me and decided to help out an underdog. He began calling attention to me right before each of my next shots. Thankfully, I kept making my shots.
At the end of the day, when the list of those who made first cuts was posted, my name was there. I had just climbed the first leg of my Mount Everest.
After a few more days of tense nerves and early-morning drills, another cut was posted. I made it past my second hurdle. With only one or two cuts left, my chances were getting better, but my competition was stiffer.
At the end of the week, tryouts were over. I tried to remain calm as I walked to the coaches’ office to see if I made the team. My name was missing from the list.
The assistant coach, who was also my science teacher, pulled me aside. “You’re a good little ball player. You’ve got a lot of potential.” His compliments didn’t help my disappointment. “It’s hard to cut people. It’s just that right now you don’t have the size to play for the team. Maybe next year.”
Why me? One of my dreams crashed, and it wasn’t because I didn’t try or practice. It was because of something out of my control. Life just didn’t seem fair.

Some five and a half years ago, my wife, Christina, began to experience some unusual physical symptoms. She wasn’t sick, but something wasn’t right. It did not seem, at the time, to be serious. Doctors began some tests. I can still clearly remember receiving a message that our physician wished to meet with both of us at eight o’clock that night in his office. I didn’t know doctors made appointments for eight o’clock at night. Since I was supposed to be somewhere else at that time, I inquired if we might postpone the appointment until the next day. “No,” the answer came back, we needed to meet that night. Confused and somewhat apprehensive, we kept the appointment. The doctor explained that tests showed Christina had cancer in multiple places in her body. The outlook for a cure was not promising.

Now, as have many of you, we have friends or relatives who have faced this threat. And we have tried to do what we could to help make that burden somewhat lighter. But I did not understand even the beginnings of what they went through until this happened to Christina.

That night we met with our children. We felt we should be honest with them. One daughter was so overwhelmed she ran out of the house and down the street and collapsed into the arms of a startled but compassionate neighbor.

I felt I should give Christina a blessing. We discussed with our children beforehand that receiving a blessing does not always mean the person will be healed. The result of the blessing was peace. We did not know what the outcome would be, but we felt great peace.

Christina was the only one, I believe, who slept soundly that night. With great faith she accepted the will of Heavenly Father in this matter—regardless of the outcome. Some weeks later, exploratory surgery revealed Christina did not have cancer, although she did have a serious but manageable illness. Everyone was relieved—everyone but Christina, who said she felt a deep sense of gratitude at being given more time on earth. Relief was not the emotion she felt, for, either way, she fully trusted her Heavenly Father.

We can plan for and mitigate the risk arising from a world that becomes more and more distracting and noisy. Let me illustrate with an experience I had many years ago.
I was flying an airplane from my home in Kalispell, Montana, to Las Vegas, Nevada, to pick up my father-in-law for a business trip. The airplane I was flying was very sophisticated, and my co-pilot was very experienced. Together, we had more than 60 years in the cockpits of different aircraft. We checked the weather, filed a flight plan, and made other preparations for the flight.
The weather in Kalispell was a beautiful, clear night, and we were prepared to leave just as the skies darkened in the cool of the spring evening. I was excited. I was flying a fabulous airplane, I had a co-pilot who was a dear friend, we had great weather, and there was the prospect of another business venture with my father-in-law. We had made a flight plan with numerous waypoints along the route.
After flying for about an hour and a half, air traffic control gave us descent instructions into the Las Vegas area. We descended into a storm that we had been comfortably flying over for some time. Suddenly, the static electricity from the storm overwhelmed the radios, and we could no longer speak to the controllers on the ground. We were flying into some of the busiest airspace in the world, with no ability to see anything outside the aircraft and no ability to speak to the controllers on the ground, whose job was to keep the aircraft separated.
Neither of us had ever experienced anything like this storm. However, we knew exactly what to do. The Federal Aviation Administration (governing body of all flights in the US) has a rule. If a pilot loses communications with the ground, he should fly “last clearance then flight plan route,” which means you do what the controller last told you and then keep to the plan you have made.
Soon, we flew out of the storm. When we finally connected with air traffic control, they told us, “We could hear you. You just couldn’t hear us.” We could not hear because the static had overwhelmed our radios, but by keeping with our plan, we were able to stay safe.

In my office I have a little plaque that reads, “Above all else, brethren, let us think straight.” These were the last words in mortality spoken by my grandfather Melvin J. Ballard. As I understand the circumstance, Grandfather, after the very grueling experience of preaching the gospel all through the eastern part of the United States, drove his car from New York to Salt Lake City. When he came into the driveway of his home at 80 North Wolcott Avenue in Salt Lake City, he collapsed. He was rushed to the LDS hospital, where he was found to have acute leukemia. He never came out of the hospital. He went in and out of a coma. As I have had it told to me by my father, who was there, Grandfather pushed himself up in bed, looked into his hospital room as though he were addressing a congregation or a group, and said clearly, “And above all else, brethren, let us think straight.” Then he died. I don’t go into my office any day of the week that I don’t see those words, and I find that they help me a great deal.

Brothers and sisters, my heart is filled to overflowing, my mind is spinning, my knees are weak and wobbly, and I find that words are totally inadequate to communicate effectively the feelings and thoughts I desire to share with you. I pray for and invite the companionship of the Holy Ghost for me and for you as I speak with you briefly this Sabbath morning.
In the hours since President Hinckley extended this new call to serve, I have heeded the admonition of Nephi to “liken all scriptures unto us” (1 Nephi 19:23) with a greater sense of purpose and intensity than I have ever done before.
I have reflected on the teaching of Paul that “God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise; and God hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty” (1 Corinthians 1:27). This morning I take great comfort in knowing that I am one of the truly weak things of the world.
I have pondered the instruction of Jacob as contained in the Book of Mormon:
“Wherefore, we search the prophets, and we have many revelations and the spirit of prophecy; and having all these witnesses we obtain a hope, and our faith becometh unshaken, insomuch that we truly can command in the name of Jesus and the very trees obey us, or the mountains, or the waves of the sea.
“Nevertheless, the Lord God showeth us our weakness that we may know that it is by his grace, and his great condescensions unto the children of men, that we have power to do these things” (Jacob 4:6–7).
Brothers and sisters, please pay particular attention to the word grace as it is used in the verse I just read. In the Bible Dictionary we learn that the word grace frequently is used in the scriptures to connote a strengthening or enabling power:
“The main idea of the word is divine means of help or strength, given through the bounteous mercy and love of Jesus Christ.
“… It is likewise through the grace of the Lord that individuals, through faith in the atonement of Jesus Christ and repentance of their sins, receive strength and assistance to do good works that they otherwise would not be able to maintain if left to their own means. This grace is an enabling power that allows men and women to lay hold on eternal life and exaltation after they have expended their own best efforts” (p. 697).
Thus, the enabling and strengthening aspect of the Atonement helps us to see and to do and to become good in ways that we could never recognize or accomplish with our limited mortal capacity. I testify and witness that the enabling power of the Savior’s Atonement is real. Without that strengthening power of the Atonement, I could not stand before you this morning.
Can we sense the grace and strengthening power of Christ in the testimony of Ammon? “Yea, I know that I am nothing; as to my strength I am weak; therefore I will not boast of myself, but I will boast of my God, for in his strength I can do all things; yea, behold, many mighty miracles we have wrought in this land, for which we will praise his name forever” (Alma 26:12). Truly, brothers and sisters, in the strength of the Lord we can do and endure and overcome all things.
As I walked out of the Church Administration Building after my interview with President Hinckley on Friday afternoon, I recalled the words of Enoch:
“And when Enoch had heard these words, he bowed himself to the earth, before the Lord, and spake before the Lord, saying: Why is it that I have found favor in thy sight, and am but a lad, and all the people hate me; for I am slow of speech; wherefore am I thy servant?
“And the Lord said unto Enoch: Go forth and do as I have commanded thee, and no man shall pierce thee. Open thy mouth, and it shall be filled, and I will give thee utterance, for all flesh is in my hands, and I will do as seemeth me good” (Moses 6:31–32).
For all of us who feel unprepared and overwhelmed and unequal to a new calling or responsibility, the promise of the Lord to Enoch is equally applicable. The promise was true in Enoch’s day, and it is true today.
On the night of June 20, 2000, several colleagues and I were working late in the executive offices of then Ricks College in Rexburg, Idaho. We were making final preparations for an unexpected and historic assembly on our campus the next morning and the announcement by President Hinckley that Ricks College would become a baccalaureate-degree-granting institution and take on the name of Brigham Young University–Idaho. As an administrative team we were just beginning to realize the monumental nature of the responsibility and challenges that were before us.
As we walked out of the building that night, one of my colleagues asked, “President, are you scared?” As best as I can recall, I answered something like this: “If I thought we had to execute this transition relying exclusively upon our own experience and our own judgment, then I would be terrified. But we will have help from heaven. Because we know who is in charge and that we are not alone, then no, I am not scared.” And we who serve at BYU–Idaho unitedly testify that there has been help from heaven, miracles have occurred, revelations have been received, doors have been opened, and we have been greatly blessed as individuals and as an institution.
Please permit me now to express gratitude and appreciation. I am thankful for my progenitors—for those faithful and steady men and women whom I respect and honor and to whom I owe everything. I love and appreciate my mother and father and my wife’s mother and father. I am grateful for their love and support and teaching and strength.
My wife, Susan, is a virtuous woman and a righteous mother. You will quickly see that purity and goodness are evident in her countenance. I love her and appreciate her more than words can express. I thank her for the woman she is, for the lessons she has taught me, and for the love we share.
Susan and I have been blessed with three stalwart sons. I love and thank them. And our growing little family now includes two righteous daughters-in-law and three brilliant and beautiful and charming granddaughters. As we have opportunities to be together, we are blessed to see just a glimpse of the family unit in eternity.
My dear brothers and sisters, I am grateful for you. As I see you assembled here in the Conference Center and envision you in meetinghouses all over the earth, I am blessed by your faithfulness and devotion to the Savior. As your arms were raised to the square on Saturday, I felt a sustaining influence flow into my soul that was most remarkable. Few of you know who I am, yet you know from whom the call has come, and you are so willing to sustain and support. I express my thanks to you and pledge my whole soul and all of my energy to this sacred work.
I will go where the Lord and the leaders of His Church want me to go, I will do what they want me to do, I will teach what they want me to teach, and I will strive to become what I should and must become. In the strength of the Lord and through His grace, I know that you and I can be blessed to accomplish all things.
As one of the weakest of the weak, I testify that God lives. I testify and witness that Jesus is the Christ. He is our Redeemer and our Savior, and He lives. And I testify that the fulness of the gospel of Jesus Christ and His true Church have been restored to the earth in these latter days through the Prophet Joseph Smith. Priesthood keys and authority and saving ordinances are again found on the earth. By the power of that priesthood, families truly can be together forever. The Book of Mormon is the word of God and the keystone of our religion. And, brothers and sisters, the heavens are not closed. God speaks—to us individually and to the leaders of His latter-day kingdom on earth. President Gordon B. Hinckley is the Lord’s prophet on the earth today. Of these things I testify and declare my witness in the sacred name of Jesus Christ, amen.

But Jacob and Jeff both were born with an intellectual disability—not so extensive that they can’t be helpful and involved, but enough that full-time missionary service isn’t possible for them.
Still, they wanted to serve. What to do?
Robert Chambers, who was their bishop in the Indian Hills Ward at the time, explains what happened. “Everybody loved Jacob. His priesthood leaders and his quorum, as well as his family, were always interested in providing him with opportunities that were similar in nature to the other boys in the quorum. About the time he was ordained a priest, we started talking with his mom and dad and his priesthood leaders, looking forward to the time when the young men in the quorum would be going on missions. We wanted to find an alternative way for him to give service, too.
Jacob and Jeff’s father, Dan, continues. “We went to see the bishop to ask about alternatives to missionary service. We found out it was already on his mind, and he was working on it.”
When he turned 19, Jacob was called to serve with the ward mission leader, teaching each soon-to-be eight-year-old child in the stake a class about preparing for baptism and confirmation. He was told that part of his service was to study his scriptures regularly. He was also called to serve as an usher at sacrament meetings. Jacob served so faithfully that his calling was extended. He is still serving.
The young men are enthusiastic about their callings and greet everyone they meet with a handshake and a smile. In return, they are greeted with friendship and kindness. Everybody in their home ward, as well as in the Riverside Singles Branch, which meets in the same building—in fact, just about everybody in the stake—recognizes the Balls brothers and knows about their special assignments. Lots of children in the stake remember Jacob as one of the special teachers who helped them learn about baptism and confirmation. And every Wednesday, Jeff’s mother Denise makes the one-hour drive to the temple so Jeff can spend the afternoon working in the cafeteria.